


No Complaints

by timkons



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics), Supersons (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Bottom Damian, Condoms, Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Future Fic, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timkons/pseuds/timkons
Summary: There's a first time for everything.





	

Jon never complains.

Damian's always taken that fact as a badge of pride. It means he's a satisfying lover, and it means that Jon enjoys their sexual ventures as much as Damian does. Jon doesn't complain when Damian pushes Jon's shoulders into the mattress, and Jon doesn't complain when Damian rolls the condom onto his dick, and Jon _certainly_  doesn't complain when Damian pushes into him, slowly and steadily, peppering kisses along Jon's collarbone. 

Jon never complains, and so Damian has never thought about it. It never occurred to him perhaps that it wasn't "natural" for him to be the one to constantly bury himself in Jon's tight, warm heat, for Jon to bracket his legs against Damian's hips and just  _take_. 

Jon had simply offered himself up, complacently pushing onto his knees and spreading his legs at the snap of Damian fixing the latex gloves on his hands or the click of their lube's cap. If Jon's eager body hadn't been enough to convince Damian that he enjoyed it, then his words certainly did, when he linked his arms around Damian's shoulders and brought him close, until they were chest to chest, and whispered against Damian's lips, "I love how you feel inside of me."

Damian's never had any reason to question it, certainly not when Jon's so happy with their current arrangement. So why is he so unsettled about it now?

-

"Do you enjoy our arrangement?" Damian asks over cereal. It's a rare day when they're able to wake up beside each other, enjoy a quiet breakfast in each other's company, the smell of fresh pancakes and coffee in the air. That had been why Damian stayed over after all; with Lois on a job and "Superman" occupied with the world, they didn't waste the opportunity. Damian takes a sip of his black coffee, as though his heart isn't beating wildly in anticipation of an answer.

"Do you mean, 'do I enjoy dating you?'" Jon asks, laughing. He bothers to turn just the slightest bit from where he's flipping burnt pancakes over the stove, just enough to reveal the silly apron his father usually wears when he grills. His smile is more brilliant than the morning light, Damian thinks. "Because if so, then yes."

Damian hums and takes another sip of the coffee to hide his flushed cheeks. Not that Jon can see, because he turns back to the stove, snickering, but Damian wouldn't risk Jon's Kryptonian senses revealing Damian's true feelings. How Jon could be so...upfront still baffled him. "But are you wanting?"

"What? Like sexually?" Jon pats at the skillet with the Kent family spatula, which was shaped like a fried egg for the head, and then transfers the pancakes to the growing stack on the plate beside him. Jon turns off the stove and presents the stack to Damian, who shovels two onto his plate despite the fact they're a hint crustier than Alfred's. (But then again, whose pancakes could compare to Alfred's?) Jon takes a seat beside Damian at the Kent table, leans into kiss him like they're on some domestic sitcom, and settles into place, loading his pancakes with a disturbing amount of butter and syrup. "Are you _stupid?_ No!"

"Hn," Damian responds in a tone lighter than the one he usually uses, and Jon grins back at him like _he knows_. 

Jon reaches out for Damian's hand like he had when Damian was buried deep inside him last night and gives it a squeeze. "It feels really good. Really."

"And what about--" Damian pretends the swallow he takes is simply because of downing a bite of Jon's offering, "--positions?"

To that, Jon shrugs. He waves the square of pancake on his fork as if he's about to part unto Damian some universal wisdom. "It's it's not broke, then don't fix it. Why, are you bored?"

Damian shakes his head, but finding the words to accompany the action are much harder. Damian's never-- Not like this. But Jon doesn't seem to be willing to speak up until Damian's said his peace, and so Damian settles his gaze on their hands, speaking from the heart. "I enjoy you."

"Well I enjoy you, too," Jon teases back. 

No complaining. So Damian shouldn't wonder. If both of them are perfectly happy with just hands or with Jon on his knees or back, then why does his chest tighten in want?

-

Damian's not like Jon. When Jon's on his back, he's naturally pretty. He doesn't even have to try, but his cheeks flush to a perfect pink, and the perfect amount or tongue or teeth peek through his slightly reddened lips, and he tilts his head back in that perfect way where his eyes slit into beautiful crescents and his eyelashes flutter like a star flickering in the dead of night. He holds onto Damian and receives with pleasure. 

And Damian... Well he was uncomfortable on the bottom, the two times they tried it, even without receiving. The first time was awkward as all firsts go, but by the second time, they realized it didn't really please either of them, or at least it didn't compare to how much they liked holding each other, kissing softly, Jon's arms wrapped around Damian's shoulders, ankles crossed behind Damian's ass, and back arched to pull them closer together.

As the son of the greatest detective in the world, Damian prided himself on his ability to remember all of Jon's tells while taking note of his own responses, even during during sex. He saw the angry curve to his brow reflected in Jon's eyes, and he tried to stifle the embarrassing sounds he'd make when he made love to Jon. He didn't talk as much as Jon during sex, mostly responding to Jon's whining or begging with a grunt or growl.

Damian clenches his eyes so that he doesn't have to look down at Jon's face relaxed with the bliss of his orgasm when Damian climaxes, sheathed deeply inside him. Damian holds himself upright -- he at least had control over his body -- and let his head hang slack against Jon's neck, nuzzling there. Jon pets his back and croons softly until Damian pulls out of Jon with a wet pop, and he removes and discards the condom in the bin Damian keeps beside his bed. 

"Up," Damian instructs, more to Jon's lazy hips than Jon, who gives a whine. Damian knows Jon would rather cuddle than clean up, but Damian's nothing if pragmatic. He rolls Jon onto his stomach and pulls at the warm cloth soaking in the dish on his nightstand, cleaning Jon before discarding that cloth as well, and pulling, folding, and discarding the towel beneath Jon. He only lays down next to Jon when the ritual is complete, and Jon's smiling peacefully, already half asleep. -- Not asleep enough, apparently, that he's too tired to reach out for his love and attach to his side. Damian tries to scoff at him, but it comes out as a fond huff.

"You're so pretty," Jon murmurs happily against his neck.

Damian breathes out his nose as the weird feeling comes back. Jon was delusional to think Damian could ever compare to the way Jon appeared when he squirming and wanting beneath Damian. And the thought occurs to Damian: did Jon ever wonder how Damian would look, supple and receptive beneath him? 

-

Damian imagines that he wouldn't nearly be as pretty as Jon. When he closes himself and imagines himself beneath Jon, all he can think of his eyebrows strictly held and unrelenting from clenched eyes, since there was _no_ way he could bear to look at Jon's wide, hopeful gaze that would undoubtedly be filled with adoration as he slowly pumped his hips against Damian's ass. He could only imagine the awkward twist of his lips that made it look like he appear he was uncomfortable, even though he would -- enjoy it.

There, he at least admitted it to himself: as long as it was Jonathan Samuel Kent, Damian would enjoy receiving Jon's rut.

Certainly, he didn't _fantasize_ about it, but it was an idea that was beginning to appear more frequently in his thoughts. Damian can't help but wonder what it's like. What is it that pleasures Jon so much to make him look so beautiful? 

-

"Do you like when I do this?" Damian asks, watching with the scrutinizing gaze of a hawk, as he hooks his fingers so that the tips brush and palpate against Jon's prostate. 

" _Yes,_ " Jon breathes out, thighs falling apart more loosely, chest arching up, and muscles straining. He's perfect against Damian's silk sheets. Jon's toes curl against the back of Damian's knee, and Damian focuses entirely on Jon and giving him pleasure in this moment. 

-

"Tell me how it feels," Damian demands, nose hooked under Jon's jaw and his lips kissing Jon's pulse. Jon's hips thrust against Damian's, thighs weakly shaking against Damian's hips. While Damian would like to hear Jon's honest feelings, he's pleased by the way Jon's overwhelmed by his cock fucking him slowly and deeply. Damian bites at his pulse, hugging Jon by the small of his back to pull them flush, and melts into the way that Jon's twines around him. 

-

Jon's thighs part to either side, back bowed elegantly, and his eyelashes flutter more delicately than the quick beat of a hummingbird's wings. His lips part just so, wet and glossy from Damian's kisses, and every curve and arch of his body rests as if sculpted as beautifully as any other piece of priceless art. Jon is perfection embodied, the way his chest swells with each breath, the way his hips undulate to meet Damian's every thrust, the way his lips bid Damian's closer, the way he breathes Damian in. This, Damian thinks, is such stuff as dreams are made on. "You're _sublime_ , Kent."

-

"You okay?" Jon asks in concern, which Damian finds utterly obscene when Jon lays yielding and debauched beneath him.

Damian bites back from saying something absurd. Imagining himself in the position Jon is in now, thighs spread, cock leaking, and ass taking in three of Damian's fingers, heat pools in his stomach, tugging equally in desire and envy.

"Yes," Damian says with all the security of steel reinforcement as he resumes pleasuring his lover to moans not even Superman will be able to deny. 

-

"I swear you'll be the death of me if you _ever_ do that again," Damian says after they've caught their breath, with Superman out of range and all of Batman's devices accounted for and deactivated, the two sons comfortable in their solitude in each other.

Jon lets out a doubtful sound that sounds part-yawn and part-laugh at Damian's remark, snatching Damian's shirt from where Damian folded it and set it aside on the nightstand earlier. The small sounds he makes shimmying into it are different from the ones he makes when Damian is inside of him, but they're no less beautiful. "We are _definitely_ doing that again sometime."

"Change isn't terrible," Damian admits as Jon collapses onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. Damian swallows and ventures, more carefully, "you don't...wonder about giving?"

"Sure, of course I do," Jon admits, rolling onto his side, eyes closed, and hands seeking out Damian's heat. No doubt the half-alien has no idea how gorgeous he looks in Damian's shirt, which he is obviously too big for, Damian notes, by the way Jon's shrugging makes the seams pull tight and the way the shirt barely covers his midsection, "but the sex is good. My orgasms are good. If you wanted to, I figured you'd tell me."

Damian says nothing but keeps studying Jon's body, nearly shimmering with that post-orgasm glow, and scoops his lover into an embrace.

Jon hooks into place like a puzzle piece, and he quietly plays with Damian's hair for a moment, merely smiling. Jon bites his bottom lip in that way that gives away his mischievousness. "Why, do you want to?"

Damian doesn't answer, but he supposes he doesn't have to, not by the way Jon half-opens his eyes and leers at him smugly. Damian looks away, scoffing, "tt."

-

It's not as though Damian is ignorant of the pleasures of bottoming. His encounters with Jon's body made him perfectly aware of the wonders of prostate orgasms, which he was quite apt at endowing, but still... Jon would be inside of him. It would be his warmth thrusting steadily into Damian, making him feel full and whole. While not an altogether undesirable idea, it's difficult to admit that Damian might be a little... What was the word?

Scared.

Jon wasn't small by any measure, following in the tradition of the Kryptonians, which wasn't to say that Damian was small, because the first time Damian had rolled on the condom and lined himself up with Jon's prepared entrance, Jon's eyes widened and he gasped, _'it's not going to fit.'_ It's an appropriate memory to reflect on as he considers the possibility of himself in that situation. While it's uneasy to imagine something so large inside of him, what unsettles Damian more is to imagine exposing himself, presenting to Jon like an animal, and not only granting Jon entrance but willingly accepting him.

It doesn't matter anyway, he thinks, fist clenched. He could never capture the same essence as Jon does when he's gloriously pornographic and welcoming Damian inside of him.

-

Still, Damian  _wants_.

-

The next time they tumble on Damian's bed with a towel fixed beneath them in promise of joining, it's no surprise to either of them that Damian is on top. Their kisses are eager and hands exploratory, but this is a common dance between each other. They both well acquainted with the steps: Damian cups Jon's face with both of his hands as if holding the most precious thing in the world, Jon nibbles softly on Damian's lips, Damian licks along the back row of Jon's teeth in that way that makes him gasp, and Jon clasps Damian's hips to bring their hips together. It's all as it should be, but Jon's routine movements halt when Damian deviates from the script, grabbing Jon by the wrists and shoving his hands lower, until both of his palms rest on Damian's ass.

Damian looks down at Jon, the whites of his eyes more wide than usual, and Jon stares back as though Damian shoved Jon's hands on his ass. Except that's exactly what Damian did. Damian and Jon were clear about which body parts were okay to touch and which weren't, and Damian's ass was one of Damian's most vocal off limits territories. Both refuse to breathe as they make sense of this new movement. Jon inhales slowly, tentatively groping one of Damian's asscheeks. Damian swallows thickly, squirming back stiffly but letting out a soft breath that almost sounds like a moan.

"Nice," Jon breathes. One side of his mouth tugs into a smirk. It's just as tentative but a little playful when Jon gropes him again, this time the other cheek. He rubs his palms up and down Damian's ass, experimenting shamelessly with jiggling fistfuls and lightly spanking Damian's rear. "You like it when I do that?"

Damian's cheeks flush prettily but he doesn't look away, choking out, "it doesn't feel awful..."

"Really? I'm glad," Jon says conversationally. He continues to knead at Damian's ass and spanks him a bit more firmly, which earns a glare from Damian. Jon grins back, laugh stifled as Damian's face softens when Jon begins to rub gentle circles again. It's not that Damian's rear is particularly sensitive, but being touched there for the first time... After a time of silent exploration, Jon bites his bottom lip and bluntly asks, "Can I fuck you?"

Damian's cheeks clench in Jon's grip and his face flushes red so deeply that Jon can see it even in the dark. Damian's first instinct is to be defensive, even while predicting that Jon knew it would embarrass him and probably hoped to temper the tenseness in the air.

"Don't ask like that!" Damian says while shoving his ass into Jon's hands.

Damian's brash words and teasing actions only make Jon laugh. They continue to test the new sensations, Damian twisting his hips and Jon tracing the line where the curve of Damian's ass meets his thigh, as they resume kissing. Damian's sweeter than expected, pushing into Jon's hands more firmly than before or wiggling impatiently. Jon's the first one to shift, but both find themselves breathing hard. When Damian pulls apart from Jon this time, he watches as Jon's pupils begin to expand. The two of them go still again, chests heaving hard, and Jon whispers, "so can I?" 

Damian closes his eyes as if that will soften the blow to his pride and nods back curtly, but neither of them move.

Jon, again, is the first one to move, tilting up to kiss Damian. It does nothing to relax Damian's stiff shoulders, which are now straining toward his ears. Jon keeps one hand on Damian's asscheek, playing with it with growing confidence and pets up Damian's back. He slots their mouths together and their bodies begin to rub and grind together pleasurably. It makes Damian's limbs loose and warm, and his hips alternate between arching into Jon's grasp and against his hips, where their hardening cocks begin to leak against each other. 

After Damian's comfortable with Jon's warm palms on his ass, Jon kisses from Damian's chin down the curve of his jaw, right up to the earlobe. "Do you want to stay like this?" 

Damian's growl is unmistakably, but luckily it's the one when he's turned on. There's just a hint of danger in the growl as if to warn Jon, but Damian pulls himself off and silently rearranges them so that he's on all fours on their towel. He lets his head hang and doesn't dare look at Jon. Simply, he says, "like this."

Damian feels Jon's hand rest on his hip and his fingers pat against his side reassuringly. He feels a puff of breath and then soft lips on his other hip, and Damian bites his bottom lip to stop himself from squirming into Jon's touch. He could never resist Jon, not when he's being soft and affirming and encouraging. "This is a good position to feel good."

"I _know_ ," Damian growls. This time he does move his hips, but it's to bump Jon's face away. "Get on with it."

"You're such a demanding power bottom already," Jon jokes, already rummaging through Damian's nightstand for their gear. He shakes their small box of condoms at Damian. "Got a preference?"

Damian's about to snap, 'I don't care,' but he settles for something milder. It comes out more softly than intended when he says, "I trust you to choose," but it's worth it by the way Jon smiles easily and pulls out a condom, tucking the rest away. He pulls out their favorite lube and a pair of Damian's preferred black latex gloves. Damian swallows at the sight of them, and he's very quiet as Jon crawls to his position behind Damian. Before Jon has the chance to put on the gloves or pop the lube's cap, he very carefully adds, "you don't need the gloves...if you don't want to, of course."

"But we need it?" Damian can nearly imagine the gears in Jon's head working. They always used gloves when fingering Jon open, mostly because Jon was lazy about his diet and cleanliness, things Damian was strict about. "I mean, unless you-- Oh my god."

It's precisely for this reason that Damian chose this position. He clenches his eyes shut for good measure, though it does nothing to stop his cheeks from stinging. Jon's realized it; Damian spent the afternoon cleaning his body because he expected them to end up like this. Damian  _wanted_ Jon to fuck him tonight.

"I can't believe you. You're the _best_ ," Jon sighs, planting a kiss to Damian's tailbone. Damian restrains the urge to shiver, but he gives in when Jon licks up to his lower column, leaving a cool stripe of shiny flesh in his wake that makes Damian shiver. "Give me a second. It'll be worth it."

Damian seriously doubts it when Jon parts with him long enough to make his ass cold again, but he watches Jon return to his nightstand, fish out another condom, glance back to Damian, and pull out one more with an expression that clearly reads, 'just in case.' Damian rolls his eyes, only getting out, "What--"

"Trust me." Jon cuts him off, winking. Carefully and safely handling the cut condom, Jon's hands return to his ass, playing with the cheeks and warming them with his touch as he kisses Damian's back and sides, and Damian reminds himself to breathe, not to relent so easily to his lover though all his instincts tell him to shove against Jon's face. He relaxes his muscles but clenches up again when he feels Jon's warm breath  _on_ his ass and a soft kiss against his left cheek. It makes his arms wobble because Jon is shameless, but he's even more shameless for  _liking_ it.

"You feel so good. I thought you'd be all skin and bones, but you're so soft back here," Jon praises sporadically, rubbing Damian's glutes and kissing them gently, crooning as Damian relaxes beneath his fingertips and lips. He plays with Damian's ass, lightly tapping his cheeks and spreading them little by little until Damian's thighs are spread enough that all Jon has to do is tug the curve of his ass. 

"Stop...talking..." Damian manages to gasp out without sounding completely wanton. He's already having a hard enough tim not moaning every time he feels a graze of teeth against his skin. He inhales deeply as Jon takes hold of his ass more firmly than before, spreading his cheeks, and Damian's cheeks flush so hotly that it feels like the room's become considerably warming. It takes effort and time to breathe out, slowly, through his nostrils. He feels the first rush of shameless lust wash over him when his hole twitches, something he's acutely aware of with his cheeks spread like this. He has no idea what's going through Jon's mind, just the small gasp he hears from behind and Jon holding Damian exposed like this for far too long. His hands start to bunch the sheets and Damian dispels any nervousness from his voice. "Kent..."

Jon immediately begins to work his hands again, fondling Damian's ass as best he can manage while keeping him spread. Damian finds his hips reacting to the touch already, nudging Jon's fingers into his flesh. "Sorry, it's just-- It's so cute."

 _"Kent,"_ Damian growls in warning. This time he does look over his shoulder with a glare, but Jon's expression is hardly sorry, eyes full of warmth and love. "Stop staring and do something already!"

Before Jon gets a chance to laugh at him, Damian takes charge and bucks his hips toward Jon impatiently. Jon shifts again, just a hint of his laugh warmly enveloping the two of them, and suddenly there's a hot puff of breath against his skin. It's unlike when Jon kissed his cheeks and reflexively Damian twitches -- full bodied, asshole, hips, shoulders, and all -- which only shoves his body against Jon, against his face, which Damian now feels right between his asscheeks. He feels Jon softly inhale in the middle of his crack and then Jon's saliva and wet lips and tongue are on him, kissing and lapping at his rim.

It's so immediate, so sudden, that Damian doesn't have time to think about when he feels Jon's velvety tongue stroking up and down his taint and ass shoots a pleasure up his spine or draws the heat low in his stomach, his dick giving a firm twitch. Damian lets out an embarrassing sound that is entirely Jon's fault as Jon starts focusing exclusively on his rim and lapping at his hole, licking circles and probing gently with his tongue.

Damian's brain finally catches up, but his question of, " _what_ are...you..." drifts away as softly as the whine he lets out. He swallows whatever he was going to say, focusing on the way he can feel Jon's stubble rub against his cheeks or every time Jon hollows his cheeks. Damian gives up on trying to control the lascivious sounds forcing their way out of his mouth, but he won't have himself quivering on unstable arms, so he leans himself slowly and steadily to the mattress, pressing his face into his pillow and pretending he isn't flagrantly rocking his ass against Jon's face.

Jon eats him out so enthusiastically that Damian can hear the wet slurps of Jon smacking his lips together or the indescribable but appealing pop when Jon's tongue slips out of his ass. Jon adds lube in time, both when he adds fingers to stretch Damian and when he slicks up a hand to pump Damian through it. Damian hates that he actually has to bat Jon's hands away or he might come to soon because Damian doesn't want to come yet; he wants to come only once Jon's deep inside of him, chasing his pleasure, like Jon's done for Damian so many times before. His other hand is going to leave a permanent indent in the mattress at his pillow at this rate, by the way Damian keeps seizing the linens, clenching against them synchronously with the way he clenches against Jon's mouth. The intrusion is unlike anything he could have ever fathomed and not altogether relaxing, but Damian thinks he could shove his hips against Jon's face for the rest of his life. Although Damian can't fathom how Jon could possibly find  _this_ gratifying, he keeps huskily breathing against his ass between kisses, sometimes moaning into Damian in such a way that makes Damian feel hot and full and tingly from the vibrations in Jon's throat. 

When Jon pulls away, his first words, barely breathed out, are, "you taste amazing."

Against better judgement, Damian looks over his shoulder, and his breath leaves him at the sight of Jon's eyes blown so dark that the blue of his eyes is a small slit and the way Jon rubs the slick from his mouth with the back of his hands. His eyes are fixed on Damian, set sharp and hungry in a way Damian's never seen before. 

"Don't-- stop that," he growls back feebly and desperate.

And that's going to be the death of Damian, because Jon has never let Damian have it easy whenever he's gotten the upper hand, a residual quirk from their youth. " _Hmm?_ Stop that? Or don't stop that? Which is it?"

"Jon," Damian says, and they both take a moment to inhale the seriousness of Damian's threat at the use of his lover's name. "I swear..."

Jon's lips purse out, but he merely rubs the head of his cock against Damian's awaiting rim, prepared by and for Jon and twitching in want of him. "If only I knew what to do..."

Shoulders held stiff and shaking with frustration, Damian presses his face back into the pillow, which stifles his words.

"What's that?"

Damian mumbles again, this time louder but just as unintelligible.

"I can't hear--"

"Fuck me," Damian demands, lifting his face from the pillow. He tosses his chin to his shoulder and glares at Jon through his lust-blown eyes. "I said, _fuck me_. Now are you going to or do I need to fuck myself?"

"Okay, okay." Jon immediately bends to the command, patting Damian's hip to calm him down.

He kisses up Damian's spine until his mouthing at Damian's neck, comfortably bracketed against Damian's smaller form. Continuing to pat Damian's hip and knead circles into his skin with his thumb and taking hold of his cock in the other to line it up with Damian's entrance, Jon whispers close enough that his lips catch against the lobe of Damian's ear, "alright, I'm gonna put it i--"

"Wait." Damian pushes at Jon's wrist just as Jon lets out a sigh of protest. "You still have to put on a condom."

"Really?" Jon asks bluntly, tone lost on meaning and small, as if they were children again. "But-- You said no gloves!"

"I didn't say anything about no condom," Damian points out in a dry, unyielding tone. He crawls a few paces away as a sign of his serious intent. "I won't have your...seed slipping out of me."

Damian can imagine it, as no doubt Jon is now: Damian collapsed on the bed, ass red and spent, Jon's cum dribbling down his thigh, and-- "Damian. I-- I really want to do it without a--"

" _No._ " If Damian were a cat, the hair would be rising on his back and his tail would flicker menacingly. "Condom. Now."

"Fiiine," Jon sighs, all his reluctance packed into that one syllable. Damian watches to make sure Jon pulls the condom out and rolls it on properly, his heart racing. Jon looks up once it's on him, holding up the ripped packaging and giving it a wiggle. "Extra sensitive, see? Thought you might like that."

They share a breath of laughter. Damian arches an eyebrow and asks, "for her?" but his shoulders remain relaxed and his tone is playful.

"We can pretend it's, 'for him.' Our demographic is grossly underestimated," Jon teases back. He leans down to kiss Damian's hip, closing the space between them again until he settles behind Damian again. "I like these ones most of the time, but next time we should--"

"At this rate, you'll be lucky if there's a next time," Damian tuts, though his tone is fond when Jon drapes himself over Damian's. There's an excited pull of heat in his stomach, his cock already leaking in anticipation. Jon nuzzles his cheeks and nose against Damian's shoulders and back for a bit, lips dragging up each nub of his spine, letting his cock slip between Damian's crack, and Damian appreciates the gesture to get used to Jon's girth. Jon begins to lavish Damian's skin with kisses and bites along his neck, sucking a hickey low on the back of his neck, where Damian's collars will cover, as he pulls back his cock and thrusts it against Damian's body, dragging the length of it down Damian's cock, his balls, his taint, and his crack, right up to his entrance. They shiver together, though who shivered is hard to tell.

"I wanna fuck you," Jon whispers against the shell of Damian's ear. "Wanna feel what it's like inside you."

Damian moans more deeply and openly than he ever allows himself, tilting his head back to allow Jon greater access. Bucking his hips against Jon, he goads back, "then _fuck_ me already."

He feels Jon's growl against his back before he hears it, and Jon's hand returns to his hip, holding him firmly, like Jon does on missions, when he's afraid and his only thought is to protect Damian. 

Jon presses in and Damian groans, not altogether pleasantly. Jon is...much bigger than he expected, even despite all their preparation and being intimately acquainted with Jon's dick. Jon's much thicker than his fingers or mouth, which should have been a given, but Damian's face scrunches as he accepts Jon into his body. The sensation isn't painful, but it's certainly strange, even stranger than the enema he did earlier.

" _Breathe_ ," Jon encourages softly, hugging around Damian's quickly seizing body and hugging him, petting his chest, stomach, and hip, "and try to relax."

Tensing up, Damian wants to snap back that Jon can tell him to relax when Jon takes his manhood, but he's confronted by the obvious, which is that Jon has and  _always_ has, without complaint or pettiness. Not to be outdone, Damian bites his lip, brow set in determination, and he forces himself to relax, ignoring the irony of the oxymoron. He rocks experimentally against Jon as well, but hisses, thinking, ' _definitely not._ '

"This is the worst part, I promise." Damian shouldn't be surprised that Jon can tell so easily, but he supposes it's inevitable that Jon should be able to read his body now that they're connected as so. He's grateful, at least, that Jon's tone remains free of judgement or mirth; it's pure sincerity, simply wishing to impart assurance to his lover. "Here, breathe with me. In," he says, inhaling. "Out," he says, exhaling. "In," he says, inhaling... Damian growls a little as Jon breathes out with him and kneads where Damian's lower stomach by his hip has gone hard with tense muscle. It makes him feel like Jon's being condescending, treating him less than, makes him feel  _frustrated_.

"Stop babying me," Damian growls. It doesn't matter that Jon's managed to sink in a few inches through their shared breathing or that Damian feels more relaxed. As soothing as it is, Damian won't have Jon patronizing him. His brain can tell him how silly it is to think Jon would act like that, especially now of all times, but Damian has pride, even when Jon is four inches inside of him.

"You're doing great," Jon assures, kissing Damian's ears, teeth brushing against his cartilage at the top and giving it a tug... Damian tuts out a, "tt," but lets Jon have his way, lavishing Damian in affection and praise as he gently rocks deeper inside of him, patiently waiting as Damian's body opens up. Whether knowingly or not, Jon lets out childish whines, predictably, whenever Damian tenses up, but both of them manage to smile through the bump and ebb of Jon's hips. They awkwardly shift as Jon reaches for the lube again, though Damian only has to bend into a pretzel for a moment before Jon's lathering his hand and wrapping it around Damian's leaking cock, pumping him in the pace of their gentle rhythm. Damian sways gently between Jon's cock and his hand, taking initiative for the pace set between them. It doesn't stop Jon from petting Damian's body until his body feels like it's on fire or whispering sweet nothings against his ear.

"You're so tight, Damian."

"You're so warm inside, Damian."

"You're so good at this, Damian."

Jon's praises keep Damian motivated and before they know it, Jon's pressed to the root, his balls hanging comfortably behind Damian's. Jon nuzzles at Damian's ear as gasps when Jon experimentally circles his hips, simultaneously pressing to the limits inside of Damian where every small shift can be felt between them. He noses at Damian's ear, breath pleasantly hot and thick. "It feels _amazing_ inside of you."

Damian arcs his head just enough so their faces rest cheek-to-cheek, and he whispers back, "you please me."

Jon smiles, letting out a, "pfft," at Damian's stubbornness to remain compared even with Jon's dick sheathed in his ass.

"Gonna fuck you," Jon promises, but it manages to come out attractive, in that way that makes the insides of Damian's thighs quake. "Still okay?"

Damian nods and even bucks his hips as a coy gesture of fucking himself against Jon. "Get on with it then."

Without any more encouragement, Jon pulls out and thrusts his hips in, and the two of them heave as one. It's overwhelming for Damian, his rear reflexively clamping down on Jon's shaft to keep him inside, which he knows exactly how pleasurable it is from being on the receiving end. Jon fucks him steadily to the slow pace of a timeless song, drawing out each breath and soft cry from Damian's lips. His grip around Damian loosens as his hips thrust more quickly, but rather than being disappointed by the lack of friction, Damian finds himself bucking back to meet Jon's hips. It's a give and take as Damian slowly assumes the reins, fucking himself on Jon's cock, and they groaning more intensely than any other time they've made love.  Damian's pushed up onto all fours and it's only now he gets wobbly again, just as Jon licks along his neck, the two of them rutting and gasping for air together.

In the midst of fucking Damian, Jon chases Damian's cheeks with his lips and leans in for a kiss, but Damian pulls away, irritably snapping, "oh no, you don't."

"Why not?" Jon whines, and he thrusts his hips in one quick, slick snap to demonstrate just how good he's been and deserving of a kiss.

"Not until you've-- _hnn_." Damian breathes out steadily through his nose, lips pursed and eyes clenched as he holds back a gasp, "cleaned your mouth."

"Not fair," Jon whines against Damian's cheek, since Damian looks against and avoids his lips, twisting away every time Jon thinks he's got his cunning lover.

"It's dirty," Damian says in that tone of finality, though his pitch turns light and airy when Jon slides his cock against deep inside of him.

Despite their game of chasing lips, they continue to grind against each other pleasurably, sweetly sighing in tandem as they build up to a quicker pace, Damian's moans coming out in short, stuttered gasps that end each time Jon's balls slap against his in quick succession. Damian should have known it would only be a matter of time until Jon hit that sweet spot that make his insides squirm and his eyes see stars. Damian bucks against him firmly, roaring out a moan louder and longer than any of Jon's. It's shrill and tight and unlike the full-throated, open moans that escape Jon when he molds to Damian's form in docile delight, but Damian takes some satisfaction at how it draws new, animalistic grunts from Jon, pistoning his cock inside Damian with purpose. 

Every pore ringing in satisfaction reminds Damian how he shouldn't enjoy it, but his body sings pleasure. His joints fall slack and pliant with the hot bliss thrumming throughout his body and he hears his blood pound in his eardrums. Jon's a considerate, satisfactory, if not overwhelming lover, kindly asking Damian if it's enough or how Damian's faring, if he's not whispering how sweet or perfect Damian is. His declarations of love are smothering, but not unwanted. For every, "I love you _so_ much," there's a quiet moan of reciprocity of, "and I, you," muttered so quietly only Jon's half-Kryptonian senses can hear.

It's only when Jon clasps one hand over Damian's breast, digging possessively against his skin, and Jon's face bearing down so heavily against Damian's back that Damian can trace the expression of his face that Damian lets loose an admission of, "I am yours."

The more Jon fucks him, the harder it is for Damian to keep himself upright. It starts with Jon thrusting hard against that pleasurable spot Damian didn't even know he had, bringing Damian to his elbows, but he falls to his chest, hard nipples straining against the towel beneath them and nails scratching at the linens, when Jon brings them hip-to-hip, grinding his dick against Damian's prostate. Jon's hugging him around the hips, pulling them impossibly closer like some parasite feeding off Damian's ass, and Damian can help but moan when he considers how erotically indecent this must look. 

As usual, Jon's the first to come, and Damian feels it before Jon starts rambling, "gonna-- oh god, gonna come-- wanna come-- so hot, gonna-- nn, gonna--" over and over at least a full minute before he actually does. -- Not that Damian's complaining, jaw slack as he gasps for breath and eyes blown from Jon stimulating when he's already too sensitive to bear it, as long as Jon finishes the job. The deep, needy timbres of their voices merge into one when Jon's hips waver against Damian's and Damian feels the heat of Jon's full-bodied moan against his spine. Damian's hands ball into fists when when Jon's hips still, and he silently vows to kill Jon when he pulls out. "Gimme a--"

 _"Now,"_ Damian demands, shoving his hips against Jon's sensitive cock as he ties and throws away the condom.

"I know, I just need--"

"Like hell!" Damian madly arches against Jon's back, only the whine further at the soft rumble of a laugh bubbling in his lover's chest.

"If you would just give me a _second_ ," are the last words Jon says, picking one of the excessive condoms. They're all Jon's favorite, a flavored condom he likes to use when blowing Damian, and he rips one open. Damian rolls his eyes as Jon opens it and rolls to his back, preparing to present his cock to Jon, even though he'd rather Jon get back to what he was previously doing, so it comes as a surprise when Jon unrolls the condom, peels off the tip, and rips it cleanly down the middle with the heat vision he's controlled and perfected throughout the years. 

Damian's brows wrinkles he processing Jon's next action, but Superspeed proves infallible, Jon immediately affixing the barrier against Damian's aching entrance. Damian's thighs claps together too slowly and come to barricade Jon's ears as his tongue and fingers return inside Damian. Damian's chest lifts off the mattress with a moan. Jon's taken his balls into his hand, cradling them and stroking one finger up and down Damian's taint as his tongue and fingers work inside. Whether from memory or his x-ray vision, Jon finds Damian's prostate immediately and begins to massage it, rimming Damian and stimulating him as best he can as Damian's hips buck provocatively against Jon's face and hands, back pushing into a perfect arch against the mattress. Damian makes the mistake of looking down just enough to see the earnest, candid sparkle in his eye. He's all too suddenly reminded of why he didn't want to face Jon while doing this, throwing his cheek to the side and grinding it into the mattress, grinding his ass hopelessly against Jon's face. 

As Jon's fingers explore Damian more deeply than his tongue can reach, his mouth roams upwards. His hand cups Damian's balls and tugs them gently before traveling to his cock, gripping it at the root and pumping viciously as his mouth traverses up Damian's stomach, stopping to nuzzle his happy trail and lick his navel. All the while his fingers rub against the spot that makes him moan, Damian shamelessly spreading his thighs and arching to meet Jon's mouth, even as Jon licks as his nipples. Jon bites on one, then the other, licks them softly and sucks on them as quickly as he strokes Damian's cock and caresses his fingers over the bundle of nerves inside Damian in a contrary rhythm, tempting him urgently, "come for me. Show me how pretty you are, Damian."

Damian feels his balls tighten and  _knows_. He twists away, refusing to come exposing himself like this, but only manages to roll onto his side before he feels his body reel in that telling way. It's all too sweet and all too quick, his hips stuttering beneath Jon's as he presses back and let's out out the most sultry sigh in his life. He stains the towel beside him with a spasm of his hips, waist and legs bending in surrender to vulgar self-indulgence. After he's donned the towel in a sprinkle of pearly stripes, his body relents to Jon's mouth and fingers, lapping and fingering him with final traces of desire. Damian continues to dribble onto the towel as Jon kisses his chest and collarbone through his orgasm.

Once his jaw is thrown back, his hair disheveled and his cheeks flushed, Jon waits for Damian to catch his breath before tossing away the used barrier and laying himself flat against Damian's front. Jon's expression is relaxed and free, the alluring glow of smug satisfaction available for only Damian to witness. They're a sticky, sweaty mess, but Damian doesn't pay it any mind until his heartbeat's settled and Jon feels all too warm and heavy against his front. He bucks his hips against Jon's, mumbling, "off," and immediately regrets it, still too tender and sensitive to handle the sensation. Jon rolls off amenably, chasing Damian's lips with his own again.

"Nn," Damian says disapprovingly, shifting his face so Jon intentionally misses, but Jon's still smiling wide. He twists to Damian's side and curl against him, both arm wrapped around Damian's torso like an octopus, and puckers up for more missing kissing. Damian pushes a palm against him to make him stop finally. "I said _no."_

"Surly as ever," Jon sighs, not at all put off by Damian's strictness. If he can't have Damian's lips, then he'll take the next best thing. Jon scoops Damian against him so they're face-to-face and revels in the way Damian wraps his arms around Jon's waist in reciprocation. Jon leans in again but instead of aiming for a kiss, he bumps his nose against Damian's and flutters his eyelashes against his lover's. It should be surprising that Damian flutters his eyelashes, but to Jon's satisfaction, it isn't. He lets out a yawn, sleepy after their love making and oblivious to Damian's smirk. "Good?"

"Yes, but... It's your turn to clean up," Damian points out. He fakes a yawn and snuggles into place, like Jon normally does after they make love, just for show. "That's usually my duty, isn't it?"

Jon's eyes snap open and Damian would laugh if it were any other time. "What? But I've never--?"

"Hm," Damian hums coyly, "I suppose there's a first time for everything, beloved."


End file.
